Borrowing Bernard
by FancyFreeThinker101
Summary: Bernard has never taken a day off of work-that is, not until Gwen has need of him. Only read if you have read The Woes of the Eternally Bored. Takes place afterwards. T for adults doing adult things, but not in a terribly explicit manner. ONESHOT. Just for kicks. Please read and review!


_AN: Hallo! This was another something that got in my head and would. Not. Go. Away. It was meant to be a lot better than this, but after the third time erasing it and starting again I said "Screw it" and just went with it. Silly, pointless, just-for-fun one shot. You'll probably see a few more of these...I do love writing them so. Well, anyway, reviews would be great, enjoy!_

**Borrowing Bernard**

I was in the middle of some long and tedious paperwork when one of the novice workers timidly knocked on the door.

I sighed.

"What?"

Peeping in, and regarding me with a respect bordering on fear, the newbie in question stammered:

"Mr. Grahame, I-I—well, someone's here to see you."

"Did they give a name?" I murmured, only half paying attention; it was probably just a customer with a question. That happened a lot.

"No, sir, she just said she was sure you wanted to see her."

"Well, that's presumptuous," I said, still rather absently. "Fine. Let her in."

The girl nodded and disappeared, and in her place was a woman with a good deal of auburn hair and large, dancing hazel eyes who smirked when she saw me.

I should have known.

"Hallo, Bernard," she said easily, taking her usual seat on my desk, swinging her legs while I wondered if she knew that I had rather a weakness for that particular pose of hers…

"Hello, Sharp," I replied, unable to quite give up the name I'd attached to her for so long. "Why are you here?"

Gwendolyn, impudent as ever, leant in and kissed me on the mouth by way of reply; forgetting all about work, I secured her head to mine with one hand, only wanting to keep her close…

"Bernard, what the hell is going on here?"

Quicker than I would have believed possible, given all the energy she was putting into it, Gwendolyn pulled away, turning to face the coldly amused Kate Hemmings—who was staring at us with crossed arms and quirked eyebrows—as gaily and easily as if she hadn't just been caught in a rather compromising position. I, still rather dazed and smiling, only murmured:

"Mm—what?"

"Hello, Miss Hemmings," trilled Gwendolyn, leaping off of my desk and smiling brightly at Kate. "It's good that you came in—I've got a big favor to ask of you."

"Oh? What favor is that?" asked Hemmings, looking more and more sarcastic by the moment. Pretending not to notice—either that or she was superbly oblivious-, Gwendolyn continued:

"Well, Miss Hemmings, you see, Bernard has been working here an awfully long time."

"That he has," said Hemmings, nodding slowly, evidently not sure where this was going. Beaming, the minx continued:

"And he's so good at what he does, isn't he?"

I've seen worse," allowed Kate, now looking suspicious. I didn't blame her; I was experiencing much the same emotion.

"Well, since he's been here so long, and he does so well, and he never, never, never takes a day off—don't you think I could—ohhh—borrow Bernard for a bit? Just for today?"

Both Kate and myself paused, faintly incredulous.

"You want to _borrow_ Bernard? Why?"

"Because I need him, Miss Hemmings," said Gwendolyn earnestly. "It'll just be for one afternoon, and everyone needs _one_ day off! You'll have him back tomorrow, good as new, I promise!"

By this point I was stunned, and Kate's mouth was starting to twitch; after thinking it over, she shrugged and said:

"Well, I suppose Bernard's high enough up on the food chain that he doesn't need my permission."

"I know, but I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't inconvenience you, Miss Hemmings. So I can have him?"

Kate looked at me, blinking and unable to believe this was happening, and then at Gwendolyn, smiling and eager as a child—and, with another twisting, sarcastic little smile, nodded.

"Yes, you can have him. Enjoy. Bernard, you better be back tomorrow."

And, without another word, she left. Gwendolyn, meanwhile, took my hand and pulled me upright.

"Well, come on, then. I didn't get you off the hook for nothing."

"Evidently," I deadpanned, unable to quite stop the little smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Why _did_ you do it, Gwendolyn?"

"You'll see," she said, as we walked out into the lobby. Curious, but deciding I'd discover it in due time, I said instead:

"You're wearing a coat."

And she was—one of those long ones that went to the knees and tied round the middle. Shrugging, she said, lightly:

"I am. How very observant."

"You hate coats," I said—and she did. Gwendolyn was one of those curious beings who was very rarely cold, and consequently owned nothing heavier than the occasional sweater. Smirking in that way which boded no good, she merely replied:

"I decided to do something a little different, that's all. Do you like it?"

"It's alright," I allowed, while, unbidden, the thought flashed through my brain that it was a little—becoming.

"Oh?" she said, and again her eyes were impish. "Well, I think I know how to improve your opinion of it. Guess what, Bernard?"

With a vague feeling of foreboding, I mumbled:

"What?"

She leant in, and her mouth touched my ear; as I shivered just a little, she whispered:

"I'm not wearing anything under this coat."

-88888—

When we got home, she acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary, and chatted, and teased, and, whenever I made as if to kiss her, would chastely permit it, but only for a moment…

At last, when I was almost mad with impatience, the little minx took a seat on a nearby stool and, flushed but still quite free and easy, said:

"Well, Bernard, it's quite warm in here. Do you er—do you think you could help me with this coat?"

I didn't have to be asked twice; mumbling "I thought you'd never ask", I got up and immediately got to work on the buttons, kissing her with considerable—enthusiasm and not stopping until the stupid piece of outerwear was entirely off, and crumpled in a heap on the floor…

When it was quite gone, I must admit I was rather—undone—for a moment; I hadn't quite believed her when she had told me she was bare beneath the coat.

I'd misjudged her; Sharp, it appeared, was a woman of her word.

Sharp by now had both arms around my neck, and after a moment I could feel her hands as they slipped beneath my blazer, easing it off…

The next thing I knew, her fingers were pulling at my belt, and the temperature of the room was rising rapidly.

By some miracle we both managed to make it into the bed, though neither of us was concentrating particularly hard on where we were going…

In the moments that I wasn't kissing her, I was, like an ill-mannered adolescent, gawking at her, completely nude and in such an—agreeable state for my perusal and mine alone…she noticed this, and blushed, averting her eyes but pleased nonetheless.

"I-it's rude to stare."

I said nothing—my mind was in too much turmoil to form anything so inconsequential as a decent reply—except for a mumbled "Shut up", and, as her mouth was soon quite occupied, very little was said for quite a long time.

-8888—

It wasn't until afterwards that she spoke again, lying with her head on the crook of my neck and her hair tumbled all over the pillow. She was, I noted with a little smirk, considerably out of breath.

"Good heavens," she murmured, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "I think I'll have to borrow you more often, Bernard."

Lying there, with my glasses hanging off of one ear and various articles of clothing, both hers and mine, scattered across the floor, I couldn't have agreed more.


End file.
